He's quite an obsessive boy
by Lilythelunarian
Summary: The wizarding community always thought that Aiden Maury was a strange boy, constantly fixated on 'The Dark Lord' and coming up with strategies to defeat him. While his parents are at a loss to understand his obsessive behaviour, they don't realise that he is Fëanor son of Finwë reincarnated from Eä with his entire memory in tact.
1. Prologue-In The Name Of Rage

**This story starts just before Fëanor dies in the Silmarilion (although it will probably be obvious). This is my first fanfiction ever! So if you like it, or have any opinion on it whatsoever, please review!:)**

**Disclaimer- I don't own The Silmarillion, Harry Potter, or any aspect of them e.g characters, concepts etc. etc. **

* * *

**Prologue- In The Name Of Rage**

The forest of thundering flames swept around him. His volcanic mind drenched in blinding pride. He held the blade. The flame licked the air that was steaming with vengeance, despite the cold fate that would soon await him, Fëanor fought with the entire wrath that he could conjure.

He was dancing in the Balrog's breath, their glowing metal searing his skin. Although his breath was harsh with rage, and his body was being ripped apart, he wouldn't hesitate to run right into the battle with his ram's heart driving his actions.

Fëanor stood, proud and hardened in the face of Gothmog, the lord of the Balrogs. He twisted his wrist; the glinting sword relishing the conflict was akin to his fiery soul. The great monstrosity before him growled, sending flittering sparks towards him, creating swollen gashes all over his body. Fëanor mocked the creature's fury, lost in a moment of sadistic comedy he blinded himself to his surroundings and Gothmog struck him to the ground.

Fëanor collapsed, his will fighting his fate. His sight was weary, and his focus flew over the ocean to Valimar, where the Valar sat in silence while Melkor unleashed chaos upon the earth. An insatiable fury crept through his soul, just as the Balrog prepared for his final blow. But he did not feel sharp weapons piercing his heart; he felt soft hands clutch his limbs, bearing him away from the heat.

He remembered little of after that time and his death, but his thoughts were so livid that they thundered out of his throat, his rage at Melkor and the rest of the Valar conscribing his sons to continue the war.

As his soul left his body and it crumpled into ashes, he felt his consciousness fly toward the halls of Mandos. Nienna stood there in her dreary robes, a scowl painted across her pained face. Fëanor felt her grief, her continual tears drowning his fire, suffocating his spirit. She shook her head. That is all he could remember.

Suddenly, he felt himself being dragged through an iridescent light-lined tunnel, the atmosphere around his spirit thick and alive with the remnants of his anger.

"Phew! It's over darling" Fëanor felt that his eyes were closed, but he used his mind's eye to perceive the situation. He was facing an ecstatic emotion, molding the physical features of a delicate face. The face belonged to a woman; she was one of the race of men.

"He's beautiful isn't he Emmanuel." The woman stroked the side of his face.

_What was happening?_

"As beautiful as you."

"Oh, stop it I hate false flattery."

"From me?"

The woman began to laugh; the situation was becoming increasingly more confounding by the second.

"What do you think we should call him?" The man she was talking to was resting against the side of a plane of white.

"I have an idea, although you may not like it." The woman appeared to be chewing the side of her mouth in an anticipative gesture. "I think Aiden is a nice name."

"Why would I think that to be odd?" The man spread out his forearms, stretching his palms flat. _What is that supposed to symbolize?_

"It means fire, I know it's a bit of a strange thing to name your child after." The woman shrugged her shoulders.

"Whatever you want darling, I don't mind." Fëanor felt vibrational warmth emanate from the man's chest.

The man drew a stick-like instrument from his pocket and flicked it graciously, the blanket upon the woman stretched up to cover her chest.

The woman lent back, "Thank you."

Fëanor directed his attention back toward his physical eyes, where was he? Did Nienna do this? He felt that same fury creep up once more, while his sons and all that knew of him believed that he dwelt in the halls of Mandos, he had been transported to this very strange place, where he couldn't even open his eyes.


	2. For All That Was Lost

**Chapter 1- For All That Was Lost**

"Aiden!" Sara Maury bundled into the room where a tall dark haired boy sat with a rather ambivalent expression upon his face. Fëanor glanced upwards, taking in the woman's exhausted energy.

"Do you want to come out with me today?" She smiled with a glitter of anticipation in her eyes.

"No. I wish not to." Despite having 127 moon cycles pass since he came there, he still couldn't quite grasp the sense in the language, it all sounded like muffled mumbles.

"Why do you never want to do anything productive?" Sara bundled over to him and peered over his shoulder.

"That is a beautiful picture Aiden." Sara smiled obliviously as she inspected the pencil-lined sketch of an arcane stone city lying on a tall mound of pasture.

Fëanor felt an insatiable heat rise from his core, he did not believe that it was a beautiful picture, his father had perished on that very hill, that was the home he had to relinquish in order to fight for the liberty of the Noldor. Once he may have thought it beautiful, but now he only felt bereavement when he gazed at his memories.

"I do not believe so." Fëanor's gaze was glacial.

Sara's eyes softened, "Well that's because you are much to cruel to yourself." She patted her palms on her knees, "As I was saying, I would really like you to come with me today, you might be able to make some friends."

"Friends?" Fëanor narrowed his eyes quizzically.

"Well, you do have a tendency to be slightly anti-social, and most of the wizards and witches I know think you slightly odd." Sara held her breath waiting for his reaction.

"How many times have you told me this?" Fëanor felt a tiresome frustration ache in his throat, it wasn't the type of irritation that he was used to, it had evolved over the time he had spent in that world, and grew more infuriating with each second.

"I just wish they could see how fantastic you actually are." Sara cocked her head to the side.

"I do not want to leave this place, ever!" Of course he wanted to go back to Arda, but maybe not to see Nienna glaring at him again. He needed to find a way to defeat Melkor; it was his soul purpose. But of course Sara thought he meant this house, and that was what he didn't want to leave, this world was too strange for him.

"Fine, I am going out with your father, we will not be back until dusk, so try not to cause any trouble." Sara flicked her wand and the chair that Fëanor was sitting on spun around to face the desk.

Fëanor let out a low grumble of irritation, he did not understand this type of magic, it was vastly different to the elven kind, but he was looking forward to learning how to use it, it would give him the advantage against Morgoth.

He stretched his mind's eye to where Sara was; she was walking down a colorful street crowded with people clothed in robes and cloaks. Fëanor missed the glittering armor that he had borne into the battle with Gothmog. The silken robes of Noldorin weaving, but most of all he missed the Silmarilis, when it used to glow on his brown akin to the fire in his heart. He needed to retrieve it. He needed to find Morgoth.


	3. Nilmonya

**Chapter 2- Nilmonya**

Sara gently strolled along the cobbles of Diagon Alley, she nonchalantly glanced at the productively proud children skipping and gasping at the very nature of their surroundings. She sighed; she had never counted her son among them. All Aiden seemed to aspire to do was increase his competence, she remembered his first word had been '_macil_'; she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something seriously wrong with him.

"Sara!" Sara smiled graciously at the bubbly essence of Molly Weasley.

"Hello Molly." Sara tried her best to not let the disappointment at Aiden's absence leak into her words.

"Where's Aiden, is he looking around the shops?" Molly grinned excitedly. Sara took a breath; she had dreaded this question ever since her son had declared that he _never _wanted to leave the house.

"He's not here, and incredibly stubborn." Sara tried to let her words come out as thinly layered as possible, but she couldn't help the slight crack in her steady tone.

Molly's eyes glinted intuitively, "Oh, that's a shame, I was looking forward to introducing him to Ronald, they're both going to start Hogwarts soon and he's rather worried about it, I thought perhaps they could help each other get through the first nerves." Molly spoke the last words in a warm tone, despite her mutual disappointment; nothing could ever fully shadow her benevolence.

Sara stared at Molly with strained eyes; _oh dear,_ Aiden would have to be around other children soon, she felt a slightly skewed empathy for Ronald Weasley if her son were going to be his helper, the only thing that never seemed to pass through Aiden's fiery mind was altruism.

"Um… I'm not sure he would be the best choice." Sara stretched the sides of her mouth in an attempted smile.

"Why not? I'm sure he's as kind- hearted as you my dear." Molly furrowed her brow pitifully.

Sara sighed.

_I really wish._

* * *

Fëanor sat at his desk, occasionally glancing at the scribbled drawing on the table, but his mind was in Arda. He always wondered what happened after he came here, he was not meant to leave the world as men did, what had Nienna done?

He was dragged out of his trance to the sound of a gentle fluttering of wings, he gazed out of the window of the Surrey town-house he lived in, a inquisitive owl was perched on the windowsill gently pecking at the glass.

"_Nilmo!" _Fëanor enthusiastically un-hooked the lock and gazed at his beloved friend, although all the men in this world made his mind race with confusion, the rest of the creatures were quite beautiful.

The owl fluttered in and dropped a red wax sealed envelope on the ground before perching on Fëanor's shoulder.

" _Mana tanya Nilmo?"_ Fëanor had taught his friend Quenya when they both had young bodies, it helped retain his first tongue instead of confusing it with the incredibly confusing language of this place.

Nilmo swooped down and intelligently plucked the seal free, revealing a neatly folded piece of parchment. Fëanor crouched to the floor skeptically his penetrating gaze inspecting the surprise letter.

He gracefully plucked the letter from the envelope and unfolded it.

Fëanor grinned smugly; his ticket to the advantage against Morgoth, for the letter was his invitation to Hogwarts, the school his parents had talked about throughout the whole of his time in that world.

"_Hiruvanyë Melkor_, _Nilmo." _Fëanor felt that familiar arcane fire rise from his heart, the fire that distinguished him from the rest of this world. He smiled madly at Nilmo, who merely ruffled his wings.

* * *

**Author's note**

**I apologize if my Quenya grammar isn't perfect, I'm still learning, but here are the translations for the Quenya in this chapter (this is what I wanted them to say):**

**Nilmonya- My Friend, Nilmo- Friend, Macil- sword, Mana tanya?- What is that?, Hiruvanyë- I will find (btw if it's wrong please PM me and tell me the corrections if you know more than my limited Quenya vocabulary)**


	4. Nányë Fëanáro!

**Chapter 3- Nányë Fëanáro!**

Fëanor silently crept into the room where he was meant to sleep in this world. He felt a fluttering elation as he sat down on the bed; he had left the door open for Nilmo to thunder in afterwards.

"_Ána ambë quilda_!" Fëanor sped to the door anxiously as he heard a soft crack float through the air to his physical ears. He gazed down the staircase to see Sara returning with a stranger. Fëanor stared at the pair of them warily; she had said that she was with Emmanuel.

"_Ye mána, Nilmo?_ Nilmo ruffled his feathers in annoyance yet swiftly floated toward them.

"Watch out Molly!" Sara moved both of them away from the incoming onset of feathers. Sara gazed at the curious bird with an emotion of knawing irritation, "That's Aiden's owl, he's rather boisterous."

Molly gently smiled. "It does not bother me my dear, he just has a spirit."

With the motive of calming revenge Sara called up the staircase, "Aiden, there's someone here to see you!"

Fëanor grumbled darkly, why should he do as this woman says? He had disregarded the authority of the Valar; this was no different to their blind commands.

"I will not come, no matter how much you torture me!" Fëanor felt the fire in his heart rise up once more, his voice echoing with its vehemence.

Molly's brow furrowed, "Is he alright?"

Sara sighed with an edge of bitterness, "He just doesn't appreciate company, I guess." She cast her eyes to the ground. Why was he so strange?

Fëanor felt a soft fragility float toward him from Sara's heart, it cooled his flame, as blue as Nienna's tears. In an alien sympathy he descended the stairs; upon seeing Sara's astounded expression, he smiled placidly.

Sara took a breath, a silent glint of proud affection in her eyes.

"Molly, this is Aiden; Aiden this is my friend Molly." Molly walked up toward him. "I'm glad I finally met you, Sara tells me that you'll be going to Hogwarts soon, are you excited?" Molly spoke with a soft, slightly patronizing tone.

Fëanor was slightly unnerved by the way she spoke, but he felt a soft amity emanating from her, he responded gently "Yes, very much." He glanced at Sara whose eyes were glittering encouragingly at his rare polite demeanor.

Molly smiled perceptively, picking up his pretense. "I wish you could meet my son Ronald who is coming to Hogwarts at the same time as you, he's very nervous and I think he would be comforted by a friend that he already knows."

Fëanor blinked, "But I've never met your son." Sara swallowed anticipatively.

"Well, before you go, you could possibly meet up together, you could come to the Burrow for lunch or something similar." Molly gazed at him hopefully.

"That would be a nice idea." Sara smiled, with a slightly dumbstruck expression painted across her features.

Fëanor grumbled internally, he didn't understand the customs of this world. How would food create a friendship?

"I don't think I would like to do that." Fëanor stared at Molly intently.

Molly smiled warmly, "Don't feel worried we're all friendly, Sara and Emmanuel could come as well."

Sara stepped forward, "That would be nice."

Fëanor bit the side of his cheek.

_Ná lafaila sina!_

"When should we come?" Sara beamed at Molly, the bittersweet essence of her expression made Fëanor's stomach churn.

"As soon as possible, I don't mind." Molly grinned warmly.

* * *

**Quenya translations again- Ána ambë quilda!- Be more quiet!, Ye mána?- Who is it?, Ná lafaila sina!- This is not just! (literal translation- this is not fair-minded)**

**Anyway! If you're reading it thank you!:)**


	5. Something Prodigious

**Author's note: Yey! Longest chapter to date!:) Sorry it's been awhile:/**

**Please review!:D**

* * *

Fëanor felt the weight of the situation as Sara, Emmanuel and he, clothed in shimmering velvet dress robes disapparated outside the home of the Weasleys.

Emmanuel smiled with an air of apathetic tranquility, Fëanor had never really felt any comfort in the warmly dry aura of his father in this life, being that is was so startlingly different to his own, which was fuelled by a volcano covered by a fragile yet numbingly frigid sheen of ice. He gazed at his earthy eyes, it was just so infuriating.

As they approached the door, Sara cast her eyes to the sky, where a charcoal shape was swiftly moving towards them, at first she thought it was one of the Weasley's owls, yet as it drew closer Aiden's face began to light up.

"Nilmo!"

Sara stared at Aiden in distain as the bird settled on his shoulder, maybe this wasn't such an amazing idea after all. With a familiar surge of frustration, Sara took her wand from her pocket and flicked it at the door, which instantaneously caused the knocker to create three aggressive taps upon the wood.

George Weasley appeared in the frame, gazing skeptically at these finely dressed wizards of whom he had never met before.

"Mum, who are these people?" He cast his eyes back inside the house, Fëanor heard a hurried mumbling as Molly burst out the door to meet them.

"Thank you so much for coming!" She beamed at them, then turned back to George, "What do you think I've been doing all morning, this is my friend Sara, and there's Emmanuel, and their son Aiden." Sara and Emmanuel smiled politely, while Fëanor just widened his eyes at the strangeness of the situation, he glanced at George who seemed to share his confusion, then smirked at the fact that he wasn't the only person in this world who wasn't completely insane.

Molly gestured them inside, their house was warm and homely, scattered with instruments and ornaments of magic. As Fëanor stepped through the door frame, he noticed that a lot of people with fiery red hair were wondering around, they all seemed rather confused when they glanced at him and his parents in this life, except for Percy whom Fëanor had decided was the most peculiar person he had ever met, when he came up to him and shook his hand.

"Pleased to meet you." He smiled falsely and moved on to Sara and Emmanuel, who appeared much better equipped to deal with his ferocious demeanour.

Molly exasperatedly bumbled over to a tall, slightly timid boy in the corner. He seemed to mirror Fëanor's thoughts with the un-enthusiastic half smile distorting his facial features. Molly muttered something to him and he sluggishly got up and slumped towards Fëanor.

"Hey." He raised his hand trying to appear un-demanding and confident, but Fëanor felt the shivering disquietude floating from his stomach, he felt a slight competitive edge to the boy's words and this made him moderately irritated as well, so he merely replied with the raising of his eyebrows.

"I like you're owl." The boy smiled sheepishly, obviously Fëanor's response had perturbed him.

Fëanor felt a inkling of pity for this boy and smiled gently. "His name is Nilmo."

The boy furrowed his brow at the slightly alien pronunciation of 'Nilmo.'

"Alright, my name's Ron, what's your's?" He chewed the side of his mouth in a nervous gesture.

"F- Aiden." Fëanor felt a flush of embarrassment, obviously he was beginning to adopt the common emotions of the people of this world, he had never felt bashfulness in Arda.

"Faiden?" Ron raised an eyebrow curiously.

"No, my name is Aiden, I was thinking about something else." He grinned cautiously. Caution. What was happening to him?

"Oh, right... okay." Ron shrugged his shoulders feigning calmness.

Fëanor was about to respond, when Molly broke the awkward communication between the two of them.

"Lunch is ready! Come on Aiden, sit here." She gestured toward a seat. "And you Ronald can sit next to him." Fëanor had begun to consolidate that Mrs. Weasley was trying to arrange a relationship between the two of them.

Fëanor sat down gracefully, while Ron apprehensively slipped into the seat beside him. Obviously neither side of the arrangement was very pleased with it.

Fëanor gazed at the food laid out before him, it was warm and hearty. But very different to the Noldorin dishes that he had been used to, he began to chew the roasted root vegetables very slowly.

As Molly had appeared to have adopted the role of host, she began to introduce her whole family to the Maurys, once she had finished, she waited for Sara to take her turn.

"Oh, this is my husband Emmanuel, and this is my son Aiden, I'm Sara." The Weasleys nodded in acknowledgement.

Fëanor just gazed around the table, they were all eyeing him curiously as he handled the food on his plate in a rather delicate manner. He had been chewing the same parsnip for about ten minutes.

Arthur Weasley broke the awkward silence at the table, "Is there something wrong Aiden?"

Fëanor still wasn't used to his new name.

"Aiden?" Fëanor perked up jittering.

He swallowed the sweet tasting mush in surprise and had to stifle a gag.

"S-sorry, I didn't hear you." He smiled defeatedly.

"Are you alright?" His brow creased sensitively.

"Yes I'm fine!" Fëanor spoke a little too loudly, and the curious expressions transformed to the translation of 'What's wrong with him?'

Sara, now registering the Weasleys' response to Aiden, had to bite back tentative tears, all she wanted was for him to have a friend, why was he treated so oddly?

Fëanor leant back in his chair, he could feel the energy of sadness floating from where Sara was sitting, he felt pity for her, she had a very soft heart.

To break the silence, Arthur started up a conversation with Emmanuel, seeing as they both worked at the ministry and it seemed a topic that was useful in attracting participants, and soon enough the company was alive with relieved chatter, it seemed to distract them from observing Fëanor, which allowed him to relax as well.

Ron still occasionally gave Fëanor wary glances, it was an odd kind of distrust, nervous and un-welcoming, as if he didn't belong there. Fëanor chuckled internally, well he was right about that at least.


End file.
